


The Way We Do Things

by centreoftheselights



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Arguments, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Support, F/F, Femslash February 2016, First Meetings, Overworking, Roommates, Strangers to Lovers, Stress, house rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:44:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6065965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centreoftheselights/pseuds/centreoftheselights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy finds an amazing apartment, with just one catch: her landlord has a long list of house rules, and her new roommate, Emily, is a stickler for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way We Do Things

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my [Femslash February prompt fills](http://centrumlumina.tumblr.com/post/138495106946/femslash-february-prompts)! Prompt: Roommates AU.
> 
> Prompted by doubleohtripleseven.

Andy knocked on the door of the third floor apartment. It opened immediately, revealing a very thin woman with bright red hair. When she saw Andy, she frowned.

“Hi!” Andy said. “I'm Andy. I'm here about the sub-let? We talked on the phone…?”

“Yes, well, I suppose you'll have to do,” the woman – presumably, Emily – said. “Well, come in then. You have your references, I assume?”

“Uh, yeah...” Andy opened her bag and began to root around for the written letters she had been asked to bring.

“Oh, no, not for me,” Emily waved her off. “You have an interview with Miranda in five minutes.”

“Miranda?”

Emily stared at her as though she was an idiot for not knowing. “Yes, Miranda. The _landl_ _ord_.”

“But – I thought this was a sub-let…?” Andy asked.

Emily sighed. “Miranda interviews every resident in this building. _No_ - _one_ gets in here without her approval. And she will be here in -” She checked her watch - “Three minutes, so you'd better be ready.”

“What?”

Emily's nostrils flared with impatience. She took a deep breath.

“You, Andrea Sachs are in need of a cheap apartment. I, Emily Charlton, have graciously agreed to let you be my roommate in this beautiful, spacious, utilities-included brownstone. Anyone in the city would kill for this opportunity. The only obstacle standing in your way -”

“Is your uptight landlady?” Andy joked.

“Land _lord_ ,” Emily corrected. “And you had better be respectful. You were the only half-decent applicant -”

_And this is the cheapest apartment in town_ , Andy thought to herself. She could deal with an uptight roommate for that.  Besides, Emily had seemed saner over  the phone ,  so perhaps this landlady – land _lord_ – thing was stressing her out.

“So please, just be polite and, maybe -” She reached out to rearrange Andy's scarf, but then dropped her hand. “You know what, there's no time. Just smile and try to look competent.”

A ndy tried to put on her best job interview face, but she was pretty sure she just looked bemused.

Emily rolled her eyes and pushed past her to open the door. An older woman was stood outside, apparently waiting without knocking. As soon as the door opened, she swept through imperiously.

 

What followed was the strangest and most terrifying ten minutes of Andy's life.

 

At the end of Miranda's visit,  she lowered her sunglasses and pronounced to Emily: “We'll see.”  Apparently that meant that Andy was in. Emily handed her a hefty booklet labelled 'Apartment Rules' and told Andy she could move in between the hours of 2 and 4:30pm next Saturday.

Andy had had terrible roommates before. There was the exhibitionist metalhead in her first year at college, the almost-certainly-drug-dealers a couple of months after she had moved to the city and, lest she forget, the stomach flu incident at camp when she was twelve. All of those had been experiences worth avoiding.

But Emily was something entirely new: someone who was actually more high-strung than Andy herself.

Emily never seemed to rest. She was studying full-time on a challenging grad program in Economics, working an unpaid internship at the weekends and moonlighting in a call centre to pay the bills. Andy had yet to see her eat anything, or even sit down for longer than it took to put on her toweringly high heels. She did theoretically own a bed, but given that she didn't arrive home from work until 2 most mornings and she woke at 5:30 for her daily morning jog, it was possible that she was secretly a vampire with no need for rest or sustenance.

“One year, then I'm out!” Andy told her friends repeatedly. “I'll stay until the end of the lease, and with the money I've saved I'll finally have enough for a deposit on my own place.”

“Besides,” she added. “The apartment is _amazing_.”

And it was. Two minutes from the subway, with on-site laundry and free high-speed broadband – even the neighbours were friendly, barring Miranda up on the fourth floor, who was rarely seen but whose presence was _always_ felt.

“No cups without a coaster!” Emily would say.

“No dishes in the sink overnight!”

“No laundry drying in the front room!”

“No sleeping in after 10am unless ill!”

Andy rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth and ignored the ridiculously long list of rules as much as she could. Fortunately, Emily spent most of her time out at one commitment or another, leaving Andy to do whatever she wanted.

 

After nearly a month of living there, Andy was drinking her morning coffee one Sunday when Emily walked into the room. As soon as she saw Andy sitting at the table, a look of horror crossed her face.

“Andy!” she hissed.

“… Good morning?” Andy asked.

“It's the third Sunday of the month!” Emily said, flapping her hands. “Miranda's inspection! What are you -?”

She broke off mid-sentence and rushed to open the front door.

Immediately outside the door, Miranda was waiting, her lips pursed like she'd been sucking lemon drops.

“I'm so, so sorry -” Emily began, but Miranda held up a hand to stop her.

“What time is it?” she asked.

Andy glanced at the clock on the wall. It was about twenty to eleven.

“Half past, is that so hard to understand? I know there's been some upheaval lately but really, good timekeeping is a very basic skill…”

“So very sorry, I thought Andy would get the door for you -”

“I've been waiting out there for _minutes_ and, as you know, time is money -”

“You didn't knock.”

When Andy pointed this out, both women's attention turned to her – Emily's with a look of horror, and Miranda's with a raised eyebrow. Miranda's gaze swept slowly over the room, hesitating for a moment on the counter, where Andy had left a takeout container from last night's dinner.

“Well,” Miranda said slowly. “I know that you're new to this building, but I hope you put more effort into the way things are done here.”

She turned back to Emily.

“I've seen enough, thank you Miss Charlton.”

Emily rushed forward to open the door for her, and Miranda strode out again.

“What just happened?” Andy asked as soon as the door was closed.

Emily held up a finger – wait. Andy could see her counting under her breath – _three, four, five…_

“How _dare_ you?”

Emily's anger was surprisingly intense given how quietly she was speaking.

“You leave her _waiting_ outside for _ten mintues_ , you leave _trash_ lying around in _plain sight_ -”

“I -”

“ _Do not lose this apartment for me!_ ” Emily hissed. “It is _rent controlled_!”

“How was I supposed to know -?”

“Did you not _read_ the Apartment Rules?”

Andy fell guiltily silent.

“Oh, my God. You actually _didn't_.”

Emily was so angry her eyes were bulging out of her head. She took two steps towards Andy, and suddenly her small frame seemed terrifying.

“ _Read_ _them_ ,” she said. “Read them, follow them, make them your _gospel_ – or else you can pack your bags and leave.”

And with that, she stomped her way back to her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her, and leaving Andy in a stunned silence.

 

Andy dug out her copy of the Apartment Rules, which she had filed away with her lease.

_Why was she doing this?_

The booklet of 'thou shalt nots' was detailed, extensive, and incredibly boring.

_Why didn't she just walk out?_

Andy kept finding her eyes skidding across the page.

_Was the apartment really worth this?_

Yes, it was. Not just for the amazing rent and utilities, but Andy found herself strangely intrigued by Emily – by her long stride, her flawless outfits, her slightly manic energy.

_She might be a vampire. Vampires also have ridiculous rules._

Or she might be a very stressed, ambitious, over-achieving young woman. All of which were words that were often applied to Andy herself. Perhaps living with Emily was like looking at a funhouse mirror version of herself.

_Perhaps you're rationalising a terrible decision._

Andy didn't care. She wanted to stay. And if that meant living by these impossible rules?

So be it.

 

There were, it turned out, a few flexibilities to some of the rules. Coasters were only required on wooden furniture, guests could stay late if prior permission was sought, that kind of thing.

But it meant the odd exploitable loophole. Washing up couldn't stay in the sink overnight – but dishes on the drying rack _could_ , and there was no reason that those dishes _had_ to be washed first. At least, not on a Saturday night when she was halfway through a Netflix marathon.

A couple of hours later, Andy heard a cry of “No! _No_!” coming from the front room. Emily almost never raised her voice. She rushed through, expecting chaos, wondering if it was her fault -

Only to find Emily sat on the couch – actually sitting, although admittedly so tense on the edge of her seat that she seemed moments from falling off.

“I can't believe they sent Mary-Anne home after all she's gone through!” Emily yelled. “Duncan's design was so derivative, why couldn't he go instead -”

“Those assholes!” Andy agreed, perching next to her. “Didn't she have that great design back in week two?”

“Yes, it was amazing, I've never seen anything like it! What are they thinking?”

Emily waved her hands at the TV expressively.

And that was how Andy learned that Emily indeed an actual human being – and one with a deep, deep investment in Project Runway.

 

Two weeks after that, Andy got in from a night out with friends to find the apartment in a mess.

Emily was sat on the floor, surrounded by papers and books and highlighter pens. In flagrant disregard of The Rules, laundry was thrown over every available radiator, and several chocolate bar wrappers had been left on the floor.

Andy glanced at the clock.

“Uh, Emily – shouldn't you be at work?”

“What?” Emily looked up sharply. “No!”

Then she started to cry. Big, gulping, mascara-ruining sobs.

“No, no, don't cry, don't -”

Andy sat on the floor beside her.

“What's going on?”

“I had – had to stay late at my intership,” Emily explained between sobs. “Only I have this paper due Monday – and I'm all out of clean underwear – and the drier is broken – and, and -”

Andy didn't need to hear any more. She leant over and wrapped Emily in a hug, and didn't let go until she stopped shaking.

“Okay, okay,” she murmured, stroking Emily's hair. “Come on, stand up, come on now...”

She guided Emily gently to the table and sat her down, then placed a box of tissues in front of her.

“Sit here, and breathe,” Andy told her. “I am going to make you a cup of coffee, and then we are going to fix this.”

Emily blew her nose loudly.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked. Andy had never heard anyone sound so forlorn.

“Because you're my friend,” she answered.

“I am?”

“Of course you are,” Andy said, although she hadn't been certain herself until a few moments ago. “And I am going to make this right.”

 

And they did. Andy took Emily's phone and called her in sick - “I'm so sorry she couldn't call earlier but she's been asleep all day and I only just got home – no, this will never happen again” - and then ordered them both some Chinese food while Emily set up her study supplies at an actual desk. Then she moved Emily's wet clothes onto the laundry rack in her room and made sure the front living area was returned to Miranda's high standards of cleanliness.

The next evening, Emily triumphantly entered the living room at eight thirty to announce that her essay was finished.

“Great!” Andy said. “So, I guess you'll be making it to work tonight after all.”

“Oh, yes, thanks for reminding me...”

Emily pulled out her phone and dialled a number.

“Yes, this is Emily Charlton,” she said, in a faint, croaky voice. “No, I'm afraid I won't be in again today, I have this dreadful flu… Thank you so much…”

She hung up, and grinned at Andy.

“Now,” she said. “Why don't the two of us open a bottle of wine and celebrate?”

She pulled out a bottle of red and poured them both a glass.

“Well,” Andy said, unable to keep the smile off the face. “Here's to you not being able to cope all of the time, just like a real human being.”

Emily laughed. It was the first time Andy had heard genuine humour from her.

“And here,” Emily toasted in return, “is to knowing that you actually do care about something behind all of that ironic detachment.”

Andy raised her eyebrows.

“Ouch!” she joked. “Okay then. To us!”

“To us!”

They clinked glasses. Emily had a look in her eye that Andy had never seen before, and it was making her heart beat faster.

“You know,” she said, impulsively. “I have a few more ideas about how we could celebrate...”

She whispered her suggestion in Emily's ear. When she drew back, Emily's eyes were wide.

“Really?” she asked. She didn't exactly sound upset by the idea.

“If you want to,” Andy said. “I – uh -”

Slowly, Emily nodded.

“But –” she said, and for a moment Andy's heart sank.

Then Emily grinned, and said: “No noise after ten pm!”

Andy smirked.

“Well, then you'll have to find some way to keep quiet.”


End file.
